The woman he longs for moved on a long time ago, yet he acts as if she’s going to come back at any minute, bringing with her a life he can only dream about. Besides, I’m sure Dixie would have something to say about that. Damn club whore thinks she has a claim on him.
Raider has Dixie pinned to the pool table, fucking her from behind while she gags on Hunter’s cock, and Savage rests against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, watching on with amusement.
Morgue nurses a beer and stares ahead, like the spot on the wall is more intriguing than the surrounding chaos. It makes me wonder what the poor bastard thinks about. He’s so detached from the world around him; only someone with severe trauma can be that soulless.
I turn on my stool to face the bar and take another swift drink of my beer before another is placed down in front of me without even gesturing for it. I lock eyes with the club princess, Stella. She’s the sister of our president and therefore my cousin. A blood MC member through and through, a qualified doctor, and now she’s completing her master’s degree in psychology, something the club hashelped pay for. Savage and the rest of us are damn proud of our MC sister. She’s beyond smart and has not an ounce of shame about where she comes from. Nope, our girl wears our colors with pride. While finishing her schooling and working shifts at the local hospital, she helps behind the bar. She works a lot harder than a lot of men around here, and she’s earned our respect in doing so. Plus, she comes in handy when we need a bullet dug out of our flesh or our cuts stitched up.
“Thanks,” I grunt out, wrapping my hand around the fresh bottle and bringing it to my lips.
“Heard some guys stayed behind.” She wipes down the bar top with a rag, and I release a grunt from my throat. Stella knows how this works; she’s not to get involved with club business; none of the women are. They’re ours to protect, nothing more, nothing less. “How do you feel about that?” She tilts her head.
I narrow my eyes. Here she fucking goes with the psychoanalyzing bullshit she spews on the regular. The same shit that does not interest me. At all.
I’m assuming our fucked-up childhood gave Stella the same trauma it gave us guys. She saw, heard, and felt everything we did, just on another level, despite us doing our best to shield her from it. Now, it’s like she’s on a damn mission to understand us all on a level we’re unprepared for. “Don’t need your advice,” I spit out, then take another swig of my beer.
I avert my gaze and turn my attention to picking the label off the beer bottle. She huffs loudly. “I wasn’t giving it, jackass.”
Laughter erupts from me, and I lift my head to face her. No other woman would dare speak to a brother with such disrespect, but Stella isn’t like the others; she’s family.
A flash of Cassidy’s pretty face causes a rush of need to power through me. Cassidy wasn’t scared of me, not really. Not once did she attempt to call the police. No, she’s begging me to use her.
How can a girl look so innocent yet swallow me so well? My cock has been rock hard since I shot a load down her throat last week, making even pissing difficult. I’ve jerked off like a teenager at every stop, and even had to pull over and go into the forest to relieve myself because the tip of my cock was rubbing on the waistband of my jeans. Coupled with the vibrations of the engine, I was desperate to come. Riding with a hard cock is no joke, not when you’re traveling over a thousand miles.
“Hey, Killa.” Long nails trail over my black T-shirt, and the overused scent of roses tickles my nostrils, causing me to pull back. What I really want is the fresh peachy smell Cassidy holds. “You want some company tonight?” Cindy, one of the club whores, asks, and the way she pouts her red lips and bats her fake lashes tells me she’s trying to be seductive, something she isn’t. She pushes her enhanced tits into my biceps and gets closer to my ear. “We can play rough.” She nips at my earlobe, and it takes everything in me not to push her away.
She doesn’t realize I don’t want toplayrough. I want toberough; there’s a difference. The raw aggression inside me demands to be unleashed in pleasure as I punish Cassidy. I wonder if her pussy would take me as well as her throat did. Would it be as tight?
“Not tonight.” I push her hand away, and she stumbles on her plastic high heels, gasping. Not going to lie, I’m normally a sure thing for the women around here; we all are, apart from Morgue, of course.
Stella glances around the bar area. “Cindy? Can youmake sure you’re up early enough to tidy up tomorrow? I have a play therapy class first thing in the morning at a local school. But I’ll do my best tonight before I leave.”
“What the fuck is play therapy?” Abs asks and grabs a bottle of water from below the counter.
“Something you could have done with growing up.” She smiles. “I have a patient who doesn’t speak. It’s most likely trauma based, so we’re using play methods to help bring him out of his shell.”
A huff leaves Cindy’s throat, and she sneers in Stella’s direction. “You’re working the bar tonight. Whoever has to work the bar has to make sure it’s left clean. That’s how it works around here.”
Stella leans over the bar. “I volunteer to work the bar. I don’t get paid to do it, unlike you.”
Cindy flicks her fake platinum-blonde hair over her shoulder. “I get paid for more than working the bar, ya know. I have other responsibilities.”
“We all know you work the men too.” Stella claps multiple times while I sit back and watch the exchange with satisfaction. “Again. I’m not a club whore. You are.” She shrugs. “Okay, well, I asked nicely.”
A low growl has my gaze darting down to witness Winnie, Venom’s Jaguar, brush between us, her tail raised high and swaying from side to side, as if she’s playing, but I know differently. I’ve witnessed the damage the little minx can cause in the blink of an eye.
She will tear you apart quicker than a monk shoots his load in a whorehouse.
Venom’s had the animal for over six years, after finding her locked in a cage with her dead mother during one of our shoot-outs. The grown-ass man who has torn others to pieces with his bare hands was brought to his knees by alittle black cub. Venom’s entity resembles that of the Hulk, and we all watched on in mortification as he cradled the cub like a newborn baby; and they’ve been inseparable ever since.
Winnie is part of our club, and she prowls the perimeter of our land and strips the flesh off the bones of our enemies on command. All the club whores are terrified of her; even some brothers keep their distance. Cindy remains stoically still. After seeing one of her friends mauled a few years ago, she does right to be wary of her.
“Venom!” I bellow over the booming music, and our gazes lock across the room where he’s being sucked off by Flo. Poor bitch got the nickname because her cunt juice flows down your cock like a geyser. It’s a fucking hazard if you ask me. My cock struggles to stay inside her with how wet she is. Her pussy is like a damn bucket, and unless we stuff her with more than one, there’s not a damn thing that’s good about being inside her. “Take her outside.” I motion with my beer bottle toward Winnie. He’s the only one she will allow to handle her, and although I don’t mind her in my vicinity, some guys get twitchy when she wants to play. The last thing we want is for someone to strike her, or worse, put a bullet in her. She’s Venom’s baby, and he’d rain down hell on them if they so much as attempted to. The last thing we need is bloodshed among our brothers. Hell, we’ve had enough of that over the years.
Venom whistles, and Winnie’s head shoots up; a low roar of recognition leaves her, and she saunters off in Venom’s direction.
“I hate it. The fucking thing claws at the door when I’m fucking Venom. They’re not meant to be home cats, ya know?” Cindy says, holding out her hand and filing her red nails.
“You mean domesticated?” Stella asks, with a smile playing on her lips. She loves fucking with the club whores as much as she does the brothers.
